


Beasts of the Kennel

by Lokiscribe



Series: This Was My Home [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Cruelty, Gen, Kill the Boy, Loss of Innocence, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Psychological Trauma, Season/Series 05, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3985561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiscribe/pseuds/Lokiscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa waits until nightfall and then returns to the kennels of Winterfell to see Theon a second time. </p><p>Spoilers for S5E5 - "Kill the Boy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beasts of the Kennel

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during S5E5. After Myranda takes Sansa to the kennels, but before Sansa eats dinner with Ramsay, Roose, and Walda.

Sansa moved through the kennels with slow, faltering steps, her breathing consistent but shaky. It was night this time, her second trip to the kennels that day, but the dogs were barking just as loudly as they had the first time she’d come. Several years ago, such a frightening commotion would have sent her screaming and running to safety, to bury her face in the dress of Septa Mordane, or of her mother… 

But Sansa Stark was no longer the girl she had once been. The horrors she had faced in King’s Landing had ensured that. She no longer had a mother, nor a father, nor had she seen any of her siblings in years; all of them were probably dead by now. Innocence was something she no longer had, not after The Game had burned her so many times. She’d been forced to learn, to adapt, in order to survive in the Lions’ den. 

And now here she was, advancing through the kennels, surrounded by fearsome beasts. Her younger self would have found it unconscionable. 

Yet she was haunted by the memory of what she had seen previously. That girl… Myranda?... had led her here earlier, and… and… it was almost too horrid to think about, really. Why _had_ Myranda brought her here? What benefit could she possibly have gained from ushering Sansa toward such a horrible sight? Had she wanted to see Sansa’s revulsion? Why would anyone _want_ to see that?

Sansa chastised herself inwardly at that. She’d learned well enough recently just how many people hid dark secrets and detestable proclivities lurking beneath the surface. It wouldn’t do for her naivety to reemerge now. 

Regardless of the kennel master’s daughter’s reason for leading her here, here she had come and here she had witnessed the nauseating sight of… something _awful_. And now here she was again, approaching the last cage on the left. 

She had to confirm what she had seen. It was too astonishing to believe based on the fleeting glimpses she’d caught earlier in the day. That poor man _had_ said that he wasn’t Theon, had he not? Maybe her eyes had deceived her… in a way, she hoped so… 

Although Theon would deserve such a downfall if he had indeed slain her brothers, as rumor claimed he had. She hadn’t seen Bran and Rickon since she’d left Winterfell so many months ago. Now _she_ was back home, but her brothers never would be again. And that was all because of Theon Greyjoy. 

Yes, maybe he ought to be trembling in a cage, wearing filthy rags and smelling of excrement.

But then again… maybe even Joffrey did not deserve such a fate. It seemed daft to her that cruelty be used as a response to cruelty, for where then would that cruelty end? _I’m still glad he’s dead_ she thought to herself. The world was much better off without Joffrey, First of His Name… 

She had nearly reached the cage by now, and she could hear the whimpers coming from it that were so unlike the harsh barking emanating from all of the other enclosures. It seemed she hadn’t hallucinated the presence of a human being, then… 

She stepped forward far enough to see through the bars, and there was the pitiful man again, though the door to his cage was closed and locked this time. What had he done, to merit such treatment in the eyes of his captor, to be locked up among animals? 

The man was sleeping, despite the tremendous racket coming from the hounds. _Perhaps he’s had to become accustomed to sleeping among them…_ How then would she get his attention? If the dogs wouldn’t wake him, how could she manage it? Her eyes scanned the ground and fell upon a small stone in the dirt. She swiftly knelt to pick it up, not caring whether she sullied her skirt. It mattered not. She could make another dress if the stain would not wash out. She knew how to care for herself now. 

She reached out for the bars with the stone in her hand, wavering not because of fear but because she was skeptical that her attempt would find success. But when she clanged the stone against the metal, the wretched man shot upward, and upon laying eyes on Sansa, scampered to the back of the cage, eyes wide and lips trembling. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sansa said hesitantly. “I only wanted… I only wanted to see you again. To be sure.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” the caged man stammered. “I’m not… him.”

“You’re not Theon Greyjoy?” Sansa questioned. 

“No. No, I’m not. I’m not. My name is Reek.” 

“Reek?” 

“Yes, I’m Reek.” 

“But that’s not even a proper name…”

“I - I - I - I’m Reek!” The panic in his eyes was evident. 

“Yes, I heard you. But I grew up with Theon Greyjoy; I _know_ what he looks like, and you _are_ him. I can see that you are.” 

The prisoner shuddered. “I’m sorry m’lady. I am. I - I - I u-used to be… I used to be…” He seemed too terrified to finish the sentence. 

“You used to be? What do you mean, you used to be? Either you are Theon or you aren’t -”

“Lord Ramsay showed me my place,” the man interrupted. “He showed me that I wasn’t a Lord, that I was beneath him… he punished me…”

“Wait!” Sansa exclaimed in disgust. “Lord _Ramsay_ did this to you? Ramsay _Bolton_?”

“Y-yes M-m’lady, but he h-hasn’t done anything t-to me, he only -”

“Hasn’t done anything, by the Gods, I can plainly see that he has. You’re a completely different _person_!”

This Theon, this so terribly changed Theon, muttered something unintelligible.

“I beg your pardon?” Sansa asked, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“A hound. I’m more like a hound, m’lady. Lord Ramsay’s hound.” 

Sansa felt shocked into silence. Finally, she said again, “So _Ramsay Bolton_ made you into… Reek?”

“Yes, m’lady, but don’t speak to him about it, please! He’ll punish me!” 

At this Sansa felt sudden anger arise within her as she thought of her brothers, the boys Theon had killed. Had they cried for mercy, only to receive none?”

“Did you really murder Bran and Rickon?” she asked suddenly and harshly, causing Theon (Reek?) to flinch violently. “Did you really burn them to death?”

There was quite a long pause before he finally answered, “…Yes m’lady.”

“But… but _why_? Why would you _do_ that; they were only _children_ , and they were my _brothers_ , practically _your_ brothers -”

“I’m so sorry, m’lady, I’m so sorry,” Theon moaned, curling into himself. He couldn’t seem to meet her eye, as if he was hiding something from her. 

Sansa stood glaring at him, chest heaving in anger, as Theon cowered in the corner. Gradually, her breathing slowed and her anger left her as the reality of Theon’s fear became clear to her. If he had ever been an arrogant, traitorous killer, he was no longer. Nothing she could do to him would possibly be worse than the humiliation he had already undergone. She decided instead to use his knowledge of his tormentor to her own benefit.

“I’m to marry Lord Ramsay,” she said quietly, causing Theon to look at her in horror. “Will he be kind to me?”

“D-don’t know, m’lady,” he responded unconvincingly, his body twitching in apparent discomfort. 

“I think you do,” Sansa answered, her gaze unwavering. She had a sense that Theon was lying to her, and she was no longer cowardly enough to be manipulated in that way. 

But Theon would not speak further, no matter how she prompted him. He simply remained in the corner of his prison, curled up and refusing to return her gaze. It seemed that she had exhausted his mental capacity for conversation. 

Recognizing the futility of additional efforts, she rose to leave, stride stiff as she made her way to the kennel’s entrance. Thoughts of so many dark things swirled in her head - grief, loss, anger, horror, loathing, revenge - but her face remained stoic, betraying no emotion. Her whole family was dead. She’d been held captive by a hostile queen and her sadistic son. She’d been forced to flee for her life rather than be arrested for a crime she’d had no part in. And now she was to marry not only a member of the family whose head had murdered her brother Robb, but one who was apparently a sadist in his own right. 

It was horrifying to think about. Just as it was horrifying to witness what Theon had become. Just as it was horrifying to think of all she and others had experienced over the past few years. 

But she was Sansa Stark. She would endure. She would face the winter and emerge [victorious]. She would play the Game of Thrones, fight for her survival, and one day, perhaps one day, things would be alright again. 

All she could do was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little trivia on the title of the work: 
> 
> I was thinking of "beasts" in a multifaceted sense. It can of course refer to Ramsay's dogs, but I thought it could also refer to  
> 1\. The fact that Theon has kind of been reduced to less than human  
> 2\. Ramsay (no explanation needed, I hope)  
> 3\. The dark emotions inside of Sansa


End file.
